


tomorrow's promises

by hlundqvists



Series: taking care of the boys [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Kneeling, M/M, New York Rangers, Non-Sexual Intimacy, i don't really know how to tag this one y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlundqvists/pseuds/hlundqvists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There’s soft murmuring around him, words being shared between the boys still there in the locker room. Hank doesn’t listen to the words, just rests his back against his stall and closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Marc’s voice is nearby, that much he can tell. He doesn’t decipher the words being said. Not until he hears Marc say so softly, “It’s okay, go to him.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	tomorrow's promises

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really have much to say here. presented without much comment, other than to say that i have other pieces for this series in the works but this seemed most important to finish first.
> 
> shoutout to lauren to looking this over for me and deeming it worthy to be posted.

It’s heavy, so very heavy.

The weight of the loss on Hank’s shoulders makes it feel impossible to move. He feels stuck, unable to process the truth of what has just happened. He’s aware that he needs to move, has to go join the line of handshakes that always seem so endless. He just… can’t. 

An arm rests against his shoulders, making him feel heavier. He’s vaguely aware of Derick’s voice - concern obvious, words of possible comfort being said - but Hank doesn’t really _hear_ it. He’s lost in the loud waves of _we lost, we lost, **I** lost_ , in his head.

The pressure of Derick’s arm leaves, and it’s quickly replaced by the gentle touch of a hand on his back. It doesn’t make him feel as heavy, and when he blinks, Hank recognizes that it’s Cam standing next to him now.

He still doesn’t want to move from the spot he’s in, but Cam’s voice breaks through to reach him, a soft but firm, “Come on, Hank, we have to do this.”

He gives a small nod, straightening up, leaning against Cam for a moment. Cam doesn’t move, just takes Hank’s weight against his side for that brief second, and holds him up until Hank takes a breath and moves away to go join the handshake line.

Cam watches for a moment, as if he’s waiting in case he needs to grab Hank and steer him in the right direction.

Hank tries to smile, knocks his stick against Cam’s pad.

“Let’s go.”

Cam nods and follows closely.

//

The handshake line isn’t easy to get through, but he does it.

He does because Cam is there to push him forward if he tries to stop and Marc is waiting off to the side for him at the end of the line.

He gets there, reaches the end and is met with a gentle touch of the arm from Marc, matched with a sad smile.

“You made it.”

Hank swallows hard and nods.  
Marc squeezes his arm before leading him over to the rest of the guys.

The last salute of the season always hurts.

The chanting of his name from the crowd rings in his ears even after it’s stopped.

That hurts even more.

//

He barely remembers the post-game interviews. If anyone asked him what he said to answer the questions, he wouldn’t be able to repeat what he’d said. He’s thankful that the media clears out fairly quickly after they get their sound bites, finally giving him room to breathe. 

He knows he should strip off the rest of his gear, go shower and head home but his body feels too heavy for that. He just wants to sit in his stall a bit longer.

There’s soft murmuring around him, words being shared between the boys still there in the locker room. Hank doesn’t listen to the words, just rests his back against his stall and closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths. 

Marc’s voice is nearby, that much he can tell. He doesn’t decipher the words being said. Not until he hears Marc say so softly, “It’s okay, go to him.”

A shuffling meets Hank’s ears and there’s a sudden weight on his right knee, and when he opens his eyes, all he sees is the top of Derick’s head as Derick kneels in front of him.

His breath catches, fingers twitching against his thighs. He opens his mouth to say something, but Derick breaks in, rubbing his cheek against Hank’s knee.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I wanted to be better for you.”

A punched noise makes it’s way out of Hank’s throat, and he can’t stop himself from moving his hand to Derick’s head, fingers carding through Derick’s hair so gently.

“No,” his voice is rough as he speaks, choked with emotion. “No, baby boy, you did so good. I’m proud of you.”

Derick tips his head up, meeting Hank’s eyes. There’s sadness there in his eyes, but also concern, and when he speaks, it’s in such a cautiously gentle tone that Hank has never heard in Derick’s voice before.

“I’m proud of _you_. You were good, too, Daddy. So good. I love you.”

He puts his head back down on Hank’s knee, just resting there. There’s no sense of urgency to him, no tension that Hank is used to having to soothe from Derick’s muscles with light touches and biting kisses. He’s not nuzzling at Hank’s thigh the way he does when he wants to be touched or have his hair pet, he’s just kneeling. Kneeling for Hank, showing Hank that he stills believes in Hank and in Hank’s abilities.

Hank swallows thickly, leaning down to brush his lips against Derick’s temple.

“I love you, too, baby boy.”

Derick hums softly, one hand squeezing Hank’s shin gently. He doesn’t say another word, just stays still and keeps his head nestled on Hank’s knee.

//

Jesper comes over a few minutes after Derick, settling down on his knees in front of Hank. He looks unsure, gazing up at Hank with wide eyes, and it’s not until Hank touches his cheek that Jesper lets himself bend forward, resting his cheek on Hank’s left knee.

Derick smiles, reaches over for Jesper’s hand. Their fingers tangle together, and Hank watches with a sense of pride at them for sharing kneeling space. 

Jesper doesn’t push for petting or kisses or any attention at all. He seems to be taking a page from Derick’s book; just kneeling, keeping close to Hank, sharing space for a while.

Hank doesn’t push them away. He can’t. They need him, and as much as his chest hurts, as much as he wants to go home, he knows that nothing will help as much as being here for his boys.

So he stays and lets them kneel, touches their hair occasionally, squeezes their shoulders every so often when they mumble out how much they love Hank, how much they love their Daddy.

He lets them kneel because they need it and because, well, he needs them to.

//

Hank loses track of the time. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting with Derick and Jesper kneeling in front of him.

Most of the team has cleared out by now. Only a few remaining behind. 

Some had left without a word, just nods in Hank’s direction. A few stopped to squeeze his shoulder, murmur a word or two of encouragement. 

Carl had hesitated with his goodbye, glancing at Marc and only moved when met with a nod of approval from him, stepping close to cup Hank’s cheeks and kiss his forehead softly, mumbling out a quiet, “ _Vi har nästa år_ ,” and just like that, Carl was gone.

Tanner gives his arm a gentle squeeze and a sad smile before leaving, as do Boyle and Sheppard. 

Derick and Jesper don’t move, staying on their knees, faces tucked lovingly against Hank’s lap as they pay no mind to everyone moving around them. Hank feels so proud of them, touches their hair gently and rubs the backs of their necks, lets them know that he’s still aware of them, is thankful for them being there.

Marty just looks sad, worn down around his own edges and Hank tries to smile at him. There’s nothing to be said between them. Marty just gives a jerky nod of his head before heading out. Hank tries to push away the unease of when he’ll see Marty again outside of this locker room.

Some of the other guys - the ones who have been around Hank long enough - know that they’ll talk another day, that it’s better if they just leave Hank as he is now, that Hank will be taken care of by Marc.

Chris is one of the few left after more time passes, even though he’s already said his piece and given Hank a soft kiss. Derick and Jesper are still on their knees, seemingly lost in the comfort of being so close to Hank. Marc is watching carefully, sitting in his own stall, very much aware of all movements in the room. 

Cam is there, too; still looking concerned, arms folded over his chest. He’s watching Chris, eyes almost narrowed and expression unreadable. Hank doesn’t know how to interpret that, but he doesn’t want to ask. 

Eventually Cam moves, stepping over towards Hank and reaches out gently, touching Derick and Jesper lightly.

“Hey, come on. It’s time to go. Daddy needs to go home now, eh?”

Derick lifts his head, blinking his eyes blearily. He looks a bit lost, confused as his brow furrows.

“Wha-- Oh. ‘kay. Yeah.”

Cam smiles, rubbing Jesper’s shoulder. Jesper is harder to pull from Hank’s lap, protesting tiredly but once Cam gets him up onto his feet, Chris is there to take Jesper’s weight and hold him up. Suddenly Hank understands why Chris stuck around.

“Come on, you overgrown pup. I’m going to take you home.”

Jesper doesn’t really seem to comprehend Chris’ words, just tucks his face against Chris’ shoulder and tiredly mumbles his agreement to going home.

Derick stands easier on his feet, eyes still a bit glassy, but he seems okay.

Hank reaches over to touch Derick’s hip, smiling a bit as Derick sways into it.

“Tack, Derick.”

Derick smiles and squeezes Hank’s fingers.

“Mm, yeah, love you.”

Chris comes over, still holding up a half-asleep Jesper, and gently nudges Derick’s foot with one of his own. “Come on. Home time, buddy.”

Hank smiles and lets go of Derick’s hand, gestures for him to follow Chris and Jesper out of the locker room.

Once they’re gone, Hank is left alone with Marc and Cam.

He doesn’t know whose arms to fall into first.

//

Cam drives home while Hank sits in the back seat with Marc. Their hands are clasped together tightly, not a single word said.

Marc brushes his thumb over Hank’s knuckles, soothing and repetitive. 

Hank gets lost in the motion, focusing solely on the sensation, and before he knows it, Cam is parking the car.

“Hey, we’re home.”

Hank nods, giving Marc’s hand a squeeze before getting out of the car.

A look passes between Marc and Cam, a silent conversation happening. Hank lets it play out, digging his keys from his pocket and goes to get the front door open.

When he steps inside, both Marc and Cam are following him in.

He manages to smile at that, reaching for them both.

It’s what he had hoped for; that they’d both choose to stay.

//

They end up in the shower, all three of them pressed together tightly. There’s enough room in Hank’s shower for them to be comfortable, for there to be room between their bodies but neither Marc nor Cam seem intent on letting any space be between themselves and Hank.

Their hands move gently over Hank. Marc’s fingers carding through Hank’s hair, leaning in to kiss him softly while Cam lathers up the body wash and rubs it over Hank’s chest down to his stomach.

They work in unison, touches so soft and light, trying to work the tension from Hank’s muscles one by one.

Marc stays pressed against Hank’s front, Cam against his back. It’s a secure feeling, being held tightly between the two of them. Hank feels safe enough to let go a bit, burying his face against Marc’s neck and let out a low, shuddering exhale as Cam rubs the sore muscles of his lower back.

He wants to cry or maybe even scream, but Marc keeps kissing him so lightly, and the sounds die in his throat as he clutches to Marc’s hips, leaning against him heavily for support.

“Shh, it’s okay, babe. It’s okay.”

Marc’s voice is barely above a whisper, his lips brushing against Hank’s ear.

“No. No, it’s n-not,” Hank can’t control the tremble in his voice or the way it cracks, “We lost, I let you all down.”

Cam makes a wounded noise and Hank can feel him press closer, his arms circling Hank’s waist.

“You didn’t. You didn’t let anyone down, Hank.” Cam’s voice is a bit louder than Marc’s, his lips against the nape of Hank’s neck. “You did the best you could, and that’s all you can do. You did your best, we all did, and sometimes it’s just not enough.”

Hank bites his lip, eyes closing as he murmurs, “I could have been better.”

Marc bites Hank’s ear, drawing a hiss from Hank and a wounded look.

“ _Stop_. You did your best. Listen to Cam and listen to _**me**_. You did your best. None of us blame you. We love you, okay? You’re good. You’re _so_ good, Henke.”

Cam nods against Hank’s neck, squeezing his hips as he hums his agreement.

Hank wants to argue, wants to say something more but he can’t with Cam there, so he just nods and lets himself be held under the spray of the water for a bit longer.

If he closes his eyes long enough, maybe everything will feel okay.

//

Cam stays for a while longer after they get out of the shower. He gets dressed and helps Marc dry Hank off, pressing quick kisses to Hank’s cheek as they lead him to the bedroom, but once Marc is pulling Hank down onto the bed, Cam steps away.

“I should head home. Chris is probably waiting.”

Hank nods, feeling grateful that Cam understands this much; that he knows that as much as Hank has appreciated his presence so far tonight, Hank needs to be alone with Marc for the rest of it.

Marc smiles a little, “Yeah, he’s probably worried.”

Cam smiles back, then looks at Hank.

“I love you, Henrik. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Hank nods, tries to say the words back, but they get stuck in his throat.

Cam doesn’t seem to mind. He just murmurs a quiet goodnight and leaves.

Marc doesn’t move until they hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Once it sounds, Marc is reaching for Hank, pulling him close as he lays back on the bed.

Hank goes easily, tucking his face against Marc’s neck while pressing a leg between his knees and slinging an arm over his waist. He pulls himself as close as he can to Marc, breathing him in, trying to keep himself from trembling, but it’s far too late.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s just me here. I’ve got you. You’re alright.”

Marc sounds steady, feels steady against Hank, and that’s all Hank needs to let go. He lets the walls come tumbling down, lets himself heave out a loud sob against Marc’s collarbone, and trusts in Marc to hold him together while he falls apart.

Marc doesn’t let him down.

//

It takes time for Hank to calm down, for all the tears to be shed, and for his body to stop shaking so much against Marc’s, but once he gets there, he feels lighter.

Marc’s fingers are in his hair, rubbing along his head gently, and Hank thinks that he might be able to fall asleep like this. It isn’t something he hasn’t done before. He just didn’t expect it to happen again like this.

“You okay, baby?”

“I…. don’t know.”

Hank’s voice is rough from crying, throat dry and hurting. Marc doesn’t let him go, just keeps holding him close and kisses wherever he can reach over and over and over again.

“That’s okay. We’ll work it out together, eh? Just like we always do. We’ll get you back to being okay, _together_.”

Hank tries to nod, but he’s so tired, and the way Marc’s fingers are rubbing his scalp just right make his desire to move his head very low.

“Ja,” he breathes out against Marc’s neck, fingers tightening against his hip. “Ja…. together. We-- Together. We’ll do it.”

He doesn’t sound confident in the moment, but he knows Marc forgives him, knows it by the way Marc kisses the top of his head gently and pulls him even closer before exhaling into his hair. 

“Always together. Just the way it should be.”

Hank settles, every movement of Marc’s fingers pulling him quickly to the edge of sleep. He’s nearly there, about to slip off and dream, when Marc whispers fiercely, “We’ll lift that Cup together. I know we will. It’s going to happen. It’s _meant_ to happen.”

Hank lifts his head, bringing his hand up to run his fingers over Marc’s cheek. He smiles, a true smile for the first time, as he takes in the sheer determination in Marc’s eyes.

“Together, ja?”

Marc’s expression softens a bit and he leans in, waiting for Hank to close the distance between their lips if he wants to. He does.

“Together,” Marc breathes the word out against Hank’s lips like a promise for their future.

“Together,” Hank kisses the word into Marc’s mouth, murmuring it over and over.

It’s their new vow, one that can’t and won’t be broken.

**Author's Note:**

> translation of the swedish;  
>  _Vi har nästa år_ , means _we have next year_.


End file.
